The Great Misunderstanding
by becannibalized
Summary: The Dom/sub AU . Sub Sherlock who doesn't want a dom thinks John is also a sub - living with him should then be bearable, shouldn't it? Dom John thinks Sherlock is a dom - living with another dom will not be easy, but they'll should manage if he tries, shouldn't they? People around just don't know or don't care to correct those two - or have their own agenda why they don't do so.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first work in D/s universe which I have fallen in love with and it is my own view of it, so the story could work, I hope you'll like it. Yes, I know that the cheekbone-y bastard should theoretically deduce John is a dom from one look, but it is the point of the story, so... ;).

* * *

_The paths of life are complicated and one decision, one moment, one discussion can change everything. There are so many in this tale that could be mentioned as interesting or having impact, but this was certainly the most important one:_

_Mike Stamford and Molly Hooper were having a nice chat over coffee when the topic turned to a certain cheekboned consulting detective._

_"It's interesting, isn't it," said Mike and sipped his coffee "that he acts so..." he waved his other hand "... dominant, when he is a sub."_

_"A sub?!" Molly laughed. "Sherlock isn't a sub! He's a dom!" she said with one hundred percent certainty._

_"He is?" Mike sipped again. "Why did I think..." he frowned. Why did he think otherwise, really? Didn't he have a conversation about it with somebody? Wasn't it even with Sherlock himself? No, of course not. Of course Sherlock was a dom! "Yeah, thanks, that explains a lot, and will prevent some misunderstandings in the future for sure." He smiled._

_Molly smiled at him as well. Sherlock as a sub! What a funny thought!_

This is a world of dominants and submissives. People are born with a D/s gender that cannot be changed. Submissives are born with a need to obey, to do what they are told by their doms and be praised for it - or punished when they misbehave. The needs of subs are much more important to fulfill than the ones of doms. If a sub decided to be a hermit, then they would still need to go into town every two or three weeks to be dominated, otherwise they would go crazy.

But of course, there are such things as microorders. The subs and doms living and working in a town **theoretically** wouldn't need a D/s gender partner because they would get enough microorders there: 'Bring me a coffee, will you?' / 'I need you to rewrite the recordings.' / 'Please sir, show me your driver's license.' But - although much of the academic research out there has been written about the non-necessity of the D/s partner - the truth is that microorders only partially worked. And not always. For one thing, they needed to be followed through with and acknowledged. And even if the dom or sub could get a temporary satisfaction from the giving orders/obeying, there were still the important parts of punishment and sex missing.

But, a sub working in a healthy environment with tasks to fulfill could go months before needing to submit to a dom (they would not be as happy as they could be, but it would work). A dom could manage years. Another branch of academic research was dedicated to the reason why and there were no truly clear results. But the world worked like this: it was not difficult to find a sub if you were a dom. But it was bloody hard to find a dom when you were an unpopular sub.

Unpopular may sound harsh. But there were actually lists for unpopular doms and unpopular subs managed by the government. Truthfully, the dom list was almost empty, because what one sub could see as a flaw (too sadistic, too cuddly, too controlling, not controlling enough,... ) others would see as a perfect match. The sub list was not so empty, because doms wanted to be obeyed, to see their collar around the sub's neck, to be addressed respectfully in public. And some subs were just... difficult.

There were many things the D/s dynamics influenced, one of which was flat sharing. The best combination was sub/sub. They would not try to control each other and would be comfortable with cleaning, cooking, and caring about the flat and the flatmate. Of course, it was not always perfect, but in general it was the best. A worse combination was dom/dom. Both were used to being obeyed. It usually included a lot of yelling, one trying to dominate the other, and hard compromises. It was not ideal, but still better than by far the worst combination, of a dom and a sub (provided that they were not in a D/s relationship). Not mentioning the jealousy of their D/s partners, it would end with the dom's ordering of the sub and the sub's obeying. One study even proved that it is not possible for a dom and a sub to live together for long and not end up a real D/s relationship, or at least an unofficial one.

When John Watson asked who would want him as a flatmate, he meant much more than wanting a dom for sharing a flat. He meant him, his leg, his nightmares. But Mike Stamford didn't really think about it, and said that he was second person to say that to him today. Why not introduce those two, really? Two doms could live together if they tried. Well, John will have to try for the both of them, but who knows, it _could_ work.

Sherlock Holmes as brilliant as he was, sometimes assumed that people were smarter than he accused them of. He had had a conversation with Mike about his D/s status so he assumed when he talked about his flatmate problems, Mike would understand that that was being included. That's why when he was presented with John Watson, potential flatmate returning from Afghanistan or Iraq with a psychosomatic limp, he supposed that Mike had brought him a sub and didn't even try to deduce John's D/s aspects (why would he, really, for one it's boring and for two it would just remind him of his own problems).

Well, if he had, things would be different and... much less interesting.

* * *

My greatest thanks to Osprey Emblem for beta-reading! :)

The story which made me fall in love with D/s universe is Shames and Prases, which can be found on archiveofourown website.

If you didn't read it, do, my story will never ever be remotely so good.

Please leave a comment! (Or mail me). They are really inspiring!


	2. Chapter 2

The _presence of a dominant_, shortly labelled as PD, was an important aspect of doms. Each person was a mixture of unique elements which have a huge impact on things, such as how quickly people like you, how well you strike them, what kind of charisma you radiate… PD indicated how keen people were (and not just subs) to sub for you - just because it was you who gave the order. It was not a number, you couldn't say: "My PD is 42, what's yours?" But what you could say was: "Let's have a PD battle."

PD battles were quite peaceful, at least at first sight. Two doms stood facing each other as dominant a glare as they could manage. First one said something to the other like: "Peter, kneel", which was followed by Peter kneeling or not. No matter what he did, it was his turn then to try and make the other dom kneel. Of course, starting could be quite an advantage - if you managed to make the other kneel. If you didn't, and the knees of other dom didn't even tremble, and what followed was a mocking smile and a steely glare, starting suddenly didn't seem so good.

The outcome of the battle was based on the kneeling, trembling knees or shaking of the whole body after the match. The impact of the battle could be quite great. For two doms battling alone it would meant the great respect of one for the other. For the doms battling with an audience (very common at uni's and bars) it could mean a change of behaviour of his friends and colleagues or losing/gaining a sub. PD battle was a very, very dangerous matter.

Sherlock Holmes hated PD battles. He hated them because he hated losing and he knew he could never really excel in them. The reason for this was that Sherlock Holmes was a sub. That was a reason he hated even more that PD battles.

He was quite small when he learned how the D/s dynamics works. This was followed by a horrifying understanding that he was not on the side he wanted to be. He read all the books and articles about whether a change was possible and all the answers screamed that it wasn't. Annoyed, he ignored them and tried to change. Oh, how he tried to change. It took him years to understand that it is indeed not possible. It would be nice to say now that it took him another couple of years to accept that. But at the start of this story it is not possible to say so. He accepted it partially, for a short period of time, but the full acceptance had yet to come about. It was a little poetic, in a sub-like way, that it came to him with a cane. It limped to the morgue where he was working. But it took quite a time before it really came to him.

Maybe it would be easier for him, back then when he was young, if his older brother was also a sub. But no, of course not, thought Sherlock. He had to be a dom with the greatest PD he'd ever met. The dom who in high school managed to provoke and defeat all his teachers (fellow students are even not worth mentioning), the dom who now occupied 'a minor position in the British Government' and was feared by the negotiators of other states. Sherlock knew (although he tried to delete it as often as possible - of course with no great results) that his brother loved him. The reason that Sherlock loved him back was that Mycroft never tried to dominate him. He never used his dom elements to be superior and order him (well, he used his minions, surveillance teams, CCTV cameras and his position to monitor and influence his life, but for Sherlock it was in a weird way more or less ok, because he could do so even if Sherlock was a dom). But despite of all this, Sherlock still held quite an amount of anger towards his brother, all having its source in envy and admiration.

But he learned from Mycroft. He used his best observation skills to learn the posture, glare, voice and other aspects of being a dom. And he used them. In his youth he used them when he tried to become a dom. In adulthood he used them when was working on a case and needed to get information from a sub - or when someone was really annoying him. The dom's aspects slowly slipped into his daily life and sometimes people were quite confused about what he was. However, he didn't hide that he was a sub now; everybody knew. Well, almost everybody - he led Molly Hooper to believe otherwise because she granted him access to the morgue and corpses; she was a sub and wanted him to be her dom.

For Sherlock, it was not difficult to get a sub on their knees. He also entered quite a few PD battles and managed to get a lot of weak doms on their knees. However, this was followed by a strong headache and horrible need to curl up to a dom and beg for punishment for bad behaviour.

Oh, how he would like to get Anderson on his knees! Anderson was a weak dom. Sherlock sometimes thought that his PD was dropping as quickly as his IQ. Sherlock was quite sure that he could manage it, that he could humiliate Anderson in front ot the whole Scotland Yard. The reason he couldn't do that was Sally Donovan. She was a strong dom who for some reason slept with Anderson (Sherlock's personal theory was that she saw this weak dom as a strong sub in some way). Of course she never tried to dom Sherlock, that would be unethical. But if he humiliated her precious forensic pet, she wouldn't hold back. She would try to get him on his knees, head to the dust, apologizing for his disobedience no matter if a suspension for her would follow. Maybe she wouldn't succeed, not right away, but he couldn't guard himself on every case; there were times when he felt weaker and more vulnerable. No, humiliating Anderson would have to wait until Donovan broke it off.

There was a time when it was too much for young Sherlock to bear the thought of being a sub. Combined with his asociality, as such, and the boredom of his brain, he resorted to drugs. He was smart enough to hide it for some time, but then he suddenly wasn't. That was the closest Mycroft ever came to almost losing himself, when he almost started shouting, ordering and domming. Fortunately a higher power came before it could really happen. That power was Mummy. The mother of the Holmes brother was a sub, but could order either of them to do anything and she would be obeyed (so-called Holmes' kryptonite). She managed to get Sherlock into rehab with one sad look.

After that and a lot of sulking, Sherlock tried to accept that he was a sub. A little part of him hoped to find someone so amazing that he would want to wear their collar in public (something that he hated as much as PD battles). But it didn't work out. The doms wanted Sherlock to change. For example, they didn't want him to deduce things about others ('Why do I need to know that the waitress wants to be a stewardess and has a secret affair with any pilot that comes to the restaurant?'). They were also often put off by the fact that Sherlock was smarter than them and that Sherlock knew it.

For a short period of time Sherlock tried to really obey. He didn't wear the collar in public, but he tried not to speak about his deductions, not to put the doms off by showing that he could do their work in a quarter amount of time and better, and to fulfill their orders. He got very skilled in sex - making a dom happy was something pleasurable for a sub and often rewarded them with their pleasure (with was so much better when specifically earned and allowed) and he got to learn about what he liked and what he didn't.

Not being able to be himself was not good and he couldn't do it for very long, but what always ended his attempts at subbing were his experiments and cases. They were more important than his own pleasure and that of his dom. And his doms were not happy when he forgot about their meetings because of an experiment or safeworded from a punishment or a reward because of a call from Lestrade.

Some doms were polite enough to sit down with Sherlock and tell him that it wasn't working. But there were many others who, before leaving, yelled at him that he was a horrible sub and that he didn't deserve a dom. Later they filled out a form and Sherlock managed to get himself on the black list of unpopular London subs.

_Mycroft was standing in Sherlock large attic apartment. The Holmes family was very rich; each boy was given a trust fund which he got full rights to when he became 18. _

_However, after the drug incident Sherlock willingly gave the rights back to Mummy. She, of course, set the month's allowance high enough for him to wear designer clothes, live in the expensive apartment and have cleaning lady who did also the shopping. The last was something Mycroft was grateful for, because he really didn't want to think about what was he looking at right now in the sink and how long it would remain there if there was no such woman._

_He was making tea. It had to be him who was making tea, because Sherlock with his D/s sensitivity would see the other way as him making tea for a dom, not for his brother._

_Mycroft sighed and prepared himself how to best bring up the topic. He glanced at Sherlock, who was sitting in a comfortable armchair and pretending to not pay attention._

_"I could have you deleted from the list," said Mycroft._

_Sherlock's eyes gleamed with understanding and fury. "Don't."_

_"Sherlock-"_

_"Don't." Sherlock interrupted him. "I am a horrible sub. That's a fact."_

_"Sherlock, you just need-"_

_"What do I need? Someone as smart as me? Even if he or she was, I would still be forced to wear that stupid thing around my neck, to obey their whimsies and stop being myself."_

_"Sherlock-"_

_"Stop 'Sherlock'ing me! I don't want to have this conversation again. Do you understand?"_

_"As you wish," said Mycroft, and he opened the fridge to retrieve the milk. A human hand was right next to it. Of course._

After some time spent with disappointment, Sherlock stopped looking for a dom and decided that he didn't need one. There were, of course, his sub needs that needed to be addressed - because of course he ignored the microorders of daily life. ('Sherlock, stop examining the ear, I need to-'... 'Piss off, Anderson.' / 'Get of my way…' *Glare*. / 'Do you think you could help me with…' No. )

There were services for subs and doms who for some reason couldn't or didn't want to satisfy their needs in a normal way. The most common phone service wasn't ordinary sex on the phone but D/s services. And of course there were special places dedicated to such activities. Some cheap and some more expensive than a months salary - as with any kind of service. Sherlock visited such places every two or three weeks now, depending on the need. Because of his stubbornness he waited till the last moment, when the need was too much, before he gave in, so the results were always too overwhelming, leaving him in a fuzzy state of mind. After the first time he actually managed to get himself lost in London after one of these sessions, Mycroft intervened and now was always waiting with a dark car before the place he visited that took him back to his attic apartment. Sherlock was usually too exhausted to care and was secretly grateful.

Sherlock's life was not perfect, but he'd enjoyed focusing on his experiments and cases. But now his life was about to change, because the circumstances required him to get a new flat and a flatmate. Dammit. The flatmate would have to be a sub, of course; he (or she) would have to put up with Sherlock's nature and experiments, and be someone who didn't want a dom in the nearby future, or at least be willing to meet the dom elsewhere. Sherlock didn't particularly like changes and this one couldn't be good.

Oh how wrong he was.

* * *

Again - my greatest thanks to Osprey Emblem for beta-reading! :)

How did you like the chapter? :) I actually wanted for Sherlock and John to meet in this chapter but Mr. Cheekbones got out of control. Typical. ;) Please leave a comment.


	3. Chapter 3

Mycroft Holmes slowly sat down in the large and expensive leather armchair. He'd just had a three hour meeting with the Japanese ambassador concerning future negotiations over the cooperation of their countries in certain matters (which of course didn't officially exist). The ambassador was very smart and very prepared, but all that still could not compare to Mycroft's capabilities. Therefore the results of the meeting were very pleasing for the kingdom, and not so for the superiors of the ambassador.

But that was a piece of cake for Mycroft. And certainly not the most difficult task of the day. That one was just about to come.

If Mycroft was a different man, he would be drumming nervously with his fingers and pouring himself a glass of whiskey. Being the one he was, however, he calmly prepared a cup of tea and dialed the number.

"Hello, Mycroft!" a soft, pleasant voice said.

"Hello, Mummy," said Mycroft.

"How are you dear?" asked his mother.

The man capable of destroying governments within days and making other doms nervous just with his stare squirmed a little bit.

"I'm fine. I wanted to speak with you about Sherlock. I would like you to reconsider it. I really don't think it's a good idea, Mummy." he said slowly.

The thing was that their mother was not happy with the nature of Sherlock's life. When she asked him how was he or what he did, he would speak about his experiments or consulting with the Scotland Yard. She wanted him to meet new people, to be able to make new friends, to observe that subs can be happy and in general to become happy himself. That's why she told him to leave his attic apartment (single bedroom) and find a flat somewhere with a flatmate.

Sherlock first reacted with sulking (and hoped that she would drop it). His mother threatened to cut his monthly allowance so he would not be able to afford the apartment. He gave it a thought. He knew her, so the cut would be not so drastic; maybe he could find small flat, and wouldn't wear all what he wanted, and put up with not having money for all the experiments, and some time later she would change her mind. Then he gave it some deeper thought. The cut of money was only the first weapon Mummy could use. Then she could bring bigger ones. Like being sad. Sherlock then sighed as he realized that he had lost.

Sherlock was surprised that for once Mycroft agreed with him and not with Mummy, but even their two brains together couldn't come up with solution how to prevent it. So now Mycroft was calling to try to persuade her one last time.

"Nonsense, dear. It will do him good to meet someone new. A sub who could show him how happy he can be. And he can make a new friend." she said with confidence.

"It will just remind him that he doesn't have _it_, Mummy." Mycroft tried, the word 'it' meaning a happy life with a dom.

"All he has to do is to give someone a chance. I am so unhappy that he stopped trying, Mycroft." she sighed.

"You also don't know what kind of flatmate he will end up with." Mycroft tried different tactic.

"Oh, I am sure you wouldn't let him to move in with someone undesirable, right?" she said crushing his attempt to pieces. His mother knew well what power her son had in with his 'minor position in the British Government'.

"No, of course not, Mummy," he answered, searching in his head for more supporting points for his cause.

His mother didn't give him a chance to do so and started a counter-attack. "Will you visit me this weekend? I would like to see you and that lovely sub of yours."

_Panic_. "I am afraid I am buried under work right now, Mummy, and he also has a lot of work with all the suicides going on."

"I'll expect you two for lunch Saturday; I will make your favorite lemon cake." she ignored him.

No need to fight a lost battle. "Do you want me to bring Sherlock as well?"

"No, he has to concentrate on finding the flat and flatmate and moving. I look forward to Saturday, dear. Have a nice evening."

"Goodbye, Mummy."

He sipped his tea. This task being over, he could return to the easier ones. What's next? Oh yes, influencing a couple of elections in African countries.

* * *

The army was a perfect occupation for both doms and subs as giving and taking microorders was the main part of the job. Of course doms aspired more to hold the higher ranks, as only taking orders didn't really fulfill them. That didn't mean that subs did not; they may have to try a little bit harder to get on the top, as the army was not an easy place, and dom glares and overpowering others in general simply oozed from soldiers, but all in all there were many sub officers - and the soldiers knew better than to sneer at that fact.

Of course, it didn't mean that one could simply be absolutely happy just from this job, as it was still only microorders and the sex part was still missing, but if you couldn't find a dom or a sub, the army was a perfect place for you to be.

John Hamish Watson (Captain, Doctor, a dom and a lover of wooly jumpers) certainly didn't join the army because he would have a problem with finding a sub. Since high school he always had someone (both long and short term partnerships, on several continents) and the last partnership ended because of his invasion of Afghanistan. That's why now it felt so weird. He was back in London and there was no sub with him he could look after.

He glanced his tiny flat and sighed sadly. Who would want a dom like him now? A dom who used a cane not for punishment but for walking. A dom who couldn't hold his sub tightly at night and promise comfort and safety as he woke up with nightmares. A dom who was currently unemployed because he wasn't sure that he wanted to be a doctor again. Well, the problem wasn't that he didn't want to be a doctor - the problem was that he didn't want to be _just_ a doctor. To spend his life without the thrill he had experienced in Afghanistan.

Actually, it was not that he thought these things would make him a bad dom. He would still be a good dom. But he wouldn't be a perfect one. And that was something that John Watson always aspired to be. People were always amazed how brilliant and gorgeous subs were standing to this short man in a wooly jumper and wearing proudly his collar. But John Watson always was full of surprises in general, and people underestimated him very often and were quite astonished of the outcome (such as bruises or bullets in case of enemies or their knees suddenly touching the ground in case of doms).

But now he didn't feel like the former John Watson. Everything felt so different. He had missed a lot of things in Afghanistan. One of the things he had missed the most was the English weather. The weather which prompted him to make cups of comforting hot tea and wear wooly jumpers to stay warm. Putting on one of his many wooly jumpers was actually a thing he had looked forward to a lot before the shot. But now, when he didn't feel like 'the John Watson' and there was no sub who could rest their head into it, wearing it also didn't feel right. Damn.

John decided to put being a dom aside for a while now and concentrate on putting his life back together.

The problem was that it was not happening.

His psychiatrist advised him to write a blog, which was something that he would actually enjoy. _If something ever happened to him!_ he thought and sighed again.

He didn't particularly want to meet the people that knew him before his limp and nightmares and since he decided not to have a sub for a while, he thought he should then meet some new dom acquaintances. A proper flat and flatmate would be nice. Living with another dom in general would not be easy, but he was a patient man who never required his subs to do everything for him, so he could manage living with another dom (if he or she would be at least a bit reasonable). But who would want to live with him?

And then he met Mike Stamford, who just happened to know another dom with the same looking-for-a-flatmate problem. It wouldn't do any harm to meet the man, would it?

* * *

It had been a long time since Sherlock Holmes had stopped hiding that he is a sub - except for occasional cases and Molly Hooper. With her it started in the same way as with others, she simply mistaken Sherlock for a dom due to his normal non sub-like behavior. But in process of trying to get his attention she showed him the morgue, the lab, the interesting cases there, said to him that he could come anytime to do his experiments, and that she would gladly help him and suddenly Sherlock couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth. Oh well.

Now he was in the morgue and since Sherlock's mind didn't pay much attention to other things but the case when he had one, he didn't even noticed what effect his words, 'We'll start with the riding crop.' had on her (or the subsequent show of beating the corpse).

When he left Molly sighed. Maybe she should find a dom who actually recognizes when he is being invited for coffee. She glanced the riding crop and a smile crept onto her lips when she remembered how Mike Stamford had thought that Sherlock was a sub.

As Sherlock was working on the case, Mike brought a visitor.

Sherlock's mind was a razor sharp tool perceiving dozens of elements simultaneously, finding the connections and coming up with deductions so quickly that if supercomputers were able to be envious, they certainly would be. But there were things that Sherlock's brain refused to process, and they all involved D/s aspects. He certainly didn't want to know any of either sub or dom preferences - what they like in bed, how much they like to cuddle, kneel, what kind of punishment or reward they use and enjoy, if they want him as a sub, if they secretly want a different D/s partner, if they want the same one but with different approach, and so on. All these deductions painfully reminded him of what he could not have, so he tried to turn them off as much as possible (of course with the exceptions of crime scenes, witnesses and someone useful or annoying).

If he hadn't turned it off, his thoughts when seeing John Watson's cane for the first time would be different. The last memories of him being caned - considered by many experts to be the most favorite punishment - would spring into his memory. (Perhaps followed his other experiences with the tool, such as the one caning so light that it actually brought him pleasure even if meant as a punishment or his worst experience with caning, when the dom stopped controlling himself, too angry with Sherlock's forgetting about their meeting again - it fortunately didn't leave scars and Sherlock was not greatly upset about it until saw his back the next day, then he went to confront the dom at his office - to humiliate him by deducing him into the ground, and he learned that the dom was not in because he was mugged and now was in hospital with two broken arms. Sherlock decided to never confront Mycroft about it.) Then the thoughts about how the visitor was gripping the cane would come. What experience, relationship and attitude the man held toward the tool based on the grip, pressure, distance from it and cane itself. Finding the first indications of the man being a dom.

But nothing like that happened. Sherlock's brain saw the cane as a cane, interested in different pressure while standing and walking, the price of the cane determining the wealth status and origin of the man, the marks and dirt on it indicating how the owner handled it and what it had been through recently.

Similarly, his brain decided the skip other key elements and concentrated on the D/s neutral ones. _Haircut, posture - military._

"Bit different from my day." _Trained at Barts. Army Doctor. Mike glancing me for a reaction_. Sherlock briefly replayed his conversation with Mike Stamford today trying to find a reason why would Mike wanted to meet someone. Oh yes. A potential flatmate?

And that was when Sherlock Holmes made The Mistake. Mike knew Sherlock was a sub from their conversation so when he brought the army doctor to Sherlock as a potential flatmate, Sherlock accepted that John was a sub. The mistake was not to run the deduction part of it, because later when he was presented with more and more dom aspects of John, he was too intrigued and too fond of him to consider them as real dom aspects and not as something learned in army or elsewhere.

Seeing the visitor as a sub he looked at one D/s aspect only - his neck. _No collar. No dom._ Perfect. He gave it little thought. Could the sub not be looking for one? Too little data.

John listened to the tall man asking Mike for his phone - not a spare glance, obviously quite a dominant person. But one cannot be picky.

John was no master of deduction but that didn't mean he didn't evaluate his potential flatmate as well. He noticed the expensive clothes. _A sudden money situation forcing him to find a flatmate?_ And his looks - the smooth, pale skin, cheekbones, lips, tall elegant figure, and later also his callipygian assets. John thought that now he really wouldn't have to bother about subs at all; standing next to this dom in far less impressive clothes with the cane, he would become invisible to subs. Not that he really minded, he didn't want a sub now and once (or if) he became Three Continents John Watson again, he would get a sub in a matter of seconds.

Sherlock listened to Mike's excuse about the phone and then: "Here, use mine." _Willing to please?_ That would be good in a flatmate. Mummy said that she wants him to try real life without the cleaning lady and he certainly didn't plan to participate in taking care of the flat much. The other sub would have to do the most of the work. Sherlock didn't really desire to learn the mundane things of life. Like where the milk shelves in supermarket dwell.

"Oh, thank you."said Sherlock, and went to take it and make closer observation. _Tanned face. No tan above the wrist. Abroad but not sunbathing. Bad limp when walking but not so when standing. At least partly psychosomatic. Traumatic injury. Wounded in action._

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock had no plans of being subtle, either; if this is going to work this man would have to get used to being deduced all the time (if he wouldn't be too boring).

Before John could recover, a small woman sub came with coffee for his potential flatmate who just magically guessed his army history. ("Oh, Molly, coffee, thank you.") John saw that she wasn't wearing any collar but she clearly wanted the tall man to be her dom. John was surprised that the man didn't react to that and only said something about the lipstick. (Didn't he see? Was he ignoring it? Was he even more 'dom-like' than John originally thought?)

"How do you feel about the violin?" heard John and it took him a moment to realize that it is a question aimed on him.

"I'm sorry, what?" he managed.

"I play the violin when I'm thinking and sometimes I don't talk for days on end. I also don't want you to bring your D/s partner to the flat. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other."

This was actually a very small opportunity for John to figure it out - that this man was a sub - by the words 'D/s partner' and not a specification of the D/s gender. That was something far more common for subs than for doms, especially combined with the distaste of meeting such. He actually gave the expression a thought later at night, but was too put off by Sherlock's dom-like behaviour and Mike's introduction him as a dom to even consider such possibility, and instead he thought about the circumstances of when a dom used the term.

Now, he just confronted Mike and the man about whether they'd spoken about him before, and heard the man speak about Afghanistan and his military service again.

"How did you know about Afghanistan?"

Sherlock ignored it. "Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. We ought to be able to afford it. We'll meet there tomorrow evening, seven o'clock. Sorry, got to dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary."

_Afford place in central London? Impossible! It can't be a decent one, big enough for two. Riding crop? Is he domming the small sub woman after all?_ But the questions were not the problem. The problem was the behaviour of the tall dom, obviously too used to ordering and ignoring others. If the circumstances were different and John wouldn't be a patient man, he would perhaps consider a PD battle but he only said, slightly irritated: "Is that it?"

"Is that what?" Sherlock heard the slight irritation and turned facing the supposed sub. Then he realized that his usual, more dom-like than sub-like, behaviour was probably not the best right now. He didn't want to discourage the potential sub flatmate by it before even letting him see the flat.

"We've only just met and we're going to go and look at a flat?" said John.

"Problem?" asked Sherlock. He certainly didn't see it as one, he was a sub looking for a flat, the doctor was a sub looking for a flat, and he knew about a suitable one. This must have been one of those social things he was being accused of not knowing.

John was surprised at the man's genuine concern. He patiently listed his main concerns. "We don't know a thing about each other. I don't know where we're meeting. I don't even know your name."

Sherlock was now pleasantly surprised at the factual answer, but the 'we don't know a thing about each other' stirred the part in him which always needed to show off and a lot of times got him in some kind of trouble. The part he had always been unable to say no to. "I know you're an army doctor and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. You've got a brother who's worried about you, but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him, possibly because he's an alcoholic, more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know your therapist thinks your limp is psychosomatic, quite correctly, I'm afraid. That's enough to be going with, don't you think?" He made it to the door before he realized that he owed two more answers. "The name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street. Afternoon."

Sherlock didn't hear Mike's, "Yeah, he's always like that." But he predicted in his head that it would be something like that, that Mike would say. As he was making his way swiftly to the morgue for his riding crop he evaluated the chances of John Watson coming tomorrow. He had showed off a little bit in that way that most hated but he could certainly be worse; he didn't explain anything (something that he really longed to do) and the things he had said were not very offensive. Or were they? Maybe that bit about Watson's brother. Oh well.

But Sherlock felt a little confident about the doctor coming. (And - even he would never admit it - afraid that he wouldn't.) There was something about him. In general John Watson was interesting, his posture, his limp, his military career, but there was something else he couldn't quite put his finger on. A little nagging thing in the back of his brain was whispering to him that he should have noticed something, but then he passed a bin with newspapers in it with the 'suicides' on the cover and his thoughts took another route.

* * *

Again - my greatest thanks to Osprey Emblem for beta-reading! :)

How did you like meeting of the boys... and Mummy Holmes :D? Please tell me! :)


	4. Chapter 4

As Sherlock was making his way home, his riding crop (properly cleaned) was hidden inside his jacket. He sneered at the memory of his mistake earlier today, when he had been striding along the street holding the crop in his hand and had became quite the attention of the uncollared subs and even a couple of collared.

He knew that his posture, glares and attitude screamed 'dom'; it was something that he worked so hard at when he was young and tried to change, and later something that always made his doms uneasy when he actually tried to submit. Therefore he wasn't surprised that him holding a riding crop could be perceived as an invitation for further D/s courtship.

Well, of course, shortly after he had realized that, he hid the crop, but it didn't prevent both the pleasant and the unpleasant thoughts.

Now on his way home the thoughts returned. The riding crop. _His_ riding crop. And not 'his' as in 'his tool for hitting others', but quite the opposite. The riding crop was **never** boring. Even a spanking with it made by a boring mind was never entirely boring for him. And what an interesting mind could do with it! _Sherlock, naked, kneeling, head bowed with his eyes looking at the floor and hands back, trembling with anticipation as the black leather tip of the crop slowly caresses his collarbone and then, in an even more torturously slow pace, travels down his chest, approaching his nipple but not touching it and passing it just by so tiny distance that if he disobeyed and moved_- STOP! He scolded himself. That's not what he wants. It's certainly, _certainly_ not. Or - a small bitter voice whispers in the back of his head - it's not something you can have, something that comes with too high a price.

Sherlock sighed as he entered his attic apartment. And certainly _not_ because of sentiment. It was his last evening here and the apartment was full of boxes and things ready to be moved to Baker Street. It wouldn't be long before Mycroft's minions arrived to do the job.

Sherlock usually refused any help from his brother, but that would mean that he would have to arrange help with moving somewhere else (boring and time consuming), and the question had caught him unprepared because Mycroft had asked him just when they were discussing the moving being a bit not good, and Sherlock was not used to Mycroft being on his side when something concerned Mummy.

He glanced his possessions and started thinking of what he should do now. All his experiments, books and files were already packed. Even the fridge was empty (not that there would be much food in it even if he wasn't moving). Maybe he could start writing a new post to his blog - but the material containing the results of the experiment for it was also in the boxes somewhere.

So what now? One last action in his flat. A nap in the bed? A long stare from the large glass window overlooking London? Masturbation in the shower? All dull, all ordinary.

As he moved, still in his jacket, he felt familiar pressure inside his chest. One last fantasy then? Something he usually tried to avoid even thinking of and resorted to only in weak moments (after repeated checkings that there were no video cameras installed by Mycroft's minions)? But also something he won't be able to do in the living room now - well, he could wait for his flatmate to go out, but then he would risk becoming so engrossed in his fantasies that he'd be discovered in such a state. And he would not allow to happen. Never. Not even by another sub.

He was in the D/s club just a couple of days ago so he didn't feel the usual need particularly strong, but it was the last night in the flat and since he probably wouldn't be able to do this particular fantasy in the living room again…

Sherlock retrieved the riding crop and took a deep breath as he imagined the circumstances to slowly drift into his fantasy. _His dom, sitting in the armchair, waiting for him to return from the morgue. His dom, giving him praise now, because Sherlock was such a good sub all day, starting with waking up his dom with his mouth, taking care of his morning problem, having breakfast together where Sherlock would explain what experiment he was about to do today to find the murderer for Lestrade, and his dom saying how clever Sherlock is, and then Sherlock asking about permission to borrow the riding crop and his dom of course agreeing because he understands the importance of Sherlock's work and asked to keep him updated because he was intrigued by it._

As the scene was nicely set in Sherlock's mind, he set the crop lying across his open palms and slowly moved to the armchair and knelt before it. With his head down, in his mind he offered the riding crop to his dom (in fact put on the chair) and then put his head on dom's thigh (in reality the armchair). _His dom slowly starts to stroke his hair and tells him that he deserves a reward and_- His mobile phone started ringing.

Sherlock almost grabbed it and threw it against the wall, but then calmed himself down. Engaging in such fantasies was stupid anyway. _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid_. Only his works and experiments mattered. Not some desires mother nature decided to send down on him.

Sherlock took the call, put the riding crop into a box, and sat in the armchair. "Hello, Mrs. Hudson." Then he assured her that he would indeed be coming tonight with his things and ended the call. He probably shouldn't have waited to move till the last day he would be able to spend in his apartment, but he'd kind of hoped that his solitary life would be saved somehow. No, the change was really happening. And he would have to find that flatmate. If the thing with John Watson didn't work out, he would have to develop some strategy for finding a proper sub flatmate. Well, maybe he should start thinking about it, because of course it's only a matter of time until John Watson would want to leave, even if he'd agreed now, but it would be nice if he stayed at least a couple of weeks and Sherlock didn't have to worry about finding a new flatmate in that time.

He was lucky to have run into that army doctor today, because he had been postponing looking as much as possible. How does one even look for flatmate? An advertisement? '_A sub, violin playing sociopath is looking for a sub flatmate who won't bother him with his D/s life.'_ He sighs. If (when) things with John Watson didn't work out, he would have to give it some deep thought. Because if he stayed without a flatmate too long, Mummy would take some radical measures. Like asking Mycroft to find him a flatmate. _Oh god._

They'd actually discussed this with Mycroft when they were trying to find a way to persuade Mummy to change her mind about this moving business. They went over various possibilities such as an actually non-existent flatmate, or one of Mycroft's minions (trying to be as non-existent for Sherlock as possible), but in the end they decided against it - Mummy would want to hear a lot about the flatmate and eventually meet him/her and neither of Holmes brothers were particularly good at hiding things from Mummy and lying to her for long. And the consequences of such actions would Not Be Good.

Although Mycroft was with him in his 'no-flatmate' agenda, Sherlock had no illusions about further actions of his brother once the flatmate was found, as such was non-negotiable and he would be responsible for finding one. Mycroft was exceptionally good in situations where he had to make the best from the bad, and Sherlock was sure that he would find someone with qualities suiting himself (which meant quite probably that Sherlock wouldn't approve of them), such as willingly spying on Sherlock in all situations (something he really couldn't connect easily with that army doctor) and forcing him to eat (well, that he could connect very easily with the doctor, because well - doctor, but the doctor would have to learn).

The fingertips of his left hand absentmindedly danced on the armrest of the red chair. He looked at them. The armchair - his 'dom's' armchair, well, actually the armchair of his virtual, non-existent dom._ How pathetic._ No real dom had actually ever sat in it. He hadn't it back then when he had been inviting his doms home, and when Mycroft came, Sherlock always did his best to occupy it. Just because. (And Mycroft never commented on why Sherlock had two armchairs and always was sitting in what was obviously not his usual one. The fact that he did not comment on that of course didn't mean that he hadn't noticed.)

Should he leave the armchair here? He wouldn't be able to use it for any of his rare, secret fantasies he'd so denied having and longing. On the other hand, his future flatmate might not have armchair of his own - John Watson surely didn't, so it would be illogical not to take it there. It didn't matter if another sub sat in it. Of course it didn't.

Sherlock became so engrossed in his thoughts about moving that he was a little surprised that so much time had passed when the bell rang. Mycroft's minions were here.

He opened the door and a couple of strong men with blank faces came in, reaching for the boxes and taking them away. Sherlock went to the window and pretended to enjoy the view. He briefly wondered how Mycroft picked them - they were smartly dressed and obviously trained and skilled in martial arts. Not really material for moving boxes and furniture. Punishment maybe? Did they screw up some mission recently?

His train of thought was interrupted when his brother came through the open door. _Oh God._

"What are you doing here?" he snarled from the window, and he noticed that in one hand Mycroft was holding his umbrella as usual, but in the other one was a small box.

Mycroft slowly came to him, quite prepared for his brother to be angry because of the moving itself and strangers now handling his possessions (and yes, the ever-present fact that Mycroft was a dom and Sherlock was a sub, and furthermore, Mycroft was now in a proper and content relationship).

"Mummy sent you a piece of the cake," said The British Government, and handed him the box.

Sherlock took it and decided to eat it after the conversation was over. He didn't eat anything the whole day (well, probably, he didn't really remember) and it was cake from Mummy. Not only that, she would probably ask about it, but it was delicious as always. Just thinking about her reminded him that he should thank his brother. Instead of that, though, he said: "How difficult for you was it to deliver and not eat it?"

Mycroft grimaced and did his best not to roll his eyes.

Sherlock gave him look ala: _Yes, I know that you are fit since HE introduced you to those morning exercises, and also you started fencing again, but reminding you how chubby you were as a small boy and then struggled with the weight after the college is just So Much Fun._

Mycroft returned it with his usual look - torn between wanting Sherlock to grow up and thinking about teasing Sherlock with something.

"How was the visit?" said Sherlock, referring to the visit of Mycroft and his partner at Mummy's that weekend.

Mycroft recalled Saturday and the amount of food Mummy had prepared - for some reason Mummy always prepared about three times more food that was actually necessary, and then forced them to eat it all with the look saying that they were too thin and didn't eat properly at all (which was true only in Sherlock's case). He recalled his sub smiling, because for some reason he always enjoyed these visits very much - how Mycroft was squirming under Mummy's attention and was being reduced from one of the most powerful man and one of the doms with greatest PD in Britain to, well… Mummy's Mycroft. He recalled his mother worrying about Sherlock and not wanting to hear about the fact that Sherlock was better off without a dom. He could certainly share some of that. And then, because he was a Holmes, he said: "Fine."

Mycroft then said slowly, as if approaching the enemy minefield, "Have you started to search for a flatmate?"

Sherlock considered what he should do. Should he tell about his brother about John Watson? His brother was going to know soon anyway. Actually, probably about the whole of John Watson's life through a thorough security check (and Holmes curiosity). On the other hand, he liked to have secrets from Mycroft.

In silence Mycroft pushed: "If you want me to help-"

That did it. "Thank you, but I'm already meeting someone about the flat tomorrow."

There, surprised Mycroft. Sherlock grinned.

"What's his name?" asked Mycroft.

Sherlock stopped grinning. "You can find out, can't you?"

"Of course I can. Yesterday you didn't know yet, so I will have to go through your entire day. Tedious and unnecessary." Mycroft sighed as if Sherlock was being difficult (well, actually he was, but that was his standard behavior so Mycroft did it just for the effect).

"You say 'I', but you mean your minions." Sherlock gestured.

"My _employees_, yes. But it will be me reading through the resources and seeing the footage of concern. I thought you didn't want me to know more about your life than the necessary means to guarantee your safety." Mycroft planted the idea - because he knew his brother well, and of course there were some actions he wouldn't want Mycroft to know of.

Sherlock remembered himself striding down the street with the riding crop, garnering the attention of other subs. Certainly not something he wanted his brother to watch on CCTV records. He gritted his teeth. "John Watson, army doctor, wounded in action." He paused a moment. "Uncollared."

Mycroft texted the sms, requiring the basic file as soon as possible. He had to make sure that his brother wouldn't move in with a serial killer (a serial killer would probably have this state deduced in the first minute - or later if particularly good - which could result in Sherlock's endangerment - this had already happened, twice).

"Only uncollared or entirely without a dom?" said Mycroft, knowing that the question would be far from appreciated.

Sherlock shrugged.

Now Mycroft rolled his eyes. "You are still filtering the D/s aspects?"

_Overwhelming. Bringing unpleasant thoughts. Hurting._ "Unimportant."

Mycroft raised his eyebrow.

"It doesn't matter whether he has a dom now or not. Even if he doesn't, he will want one in the future once he recovers. I told him I don't want him to bring his dom to the flat." Sherlock usually used the term 'D/s partner' when having a conversation about doms - with the exception of his brother and when particularly angry. Because with Mycroft, he could allow himself to spit the word hatefully, having no consequences of questions and discussions about doms.

"You seem to have given him a lot of thought." said Mycroft carefully. "Would you like him to move in? I could-"

"NO!" Sherlock raised his voice and glared at his brother. "I don't object to the security check because it's something I know Mummy expects from you, but don't dare to interfere in anything else. No kidnappings to an empty warehouse. Do you understand?" Sherlock stepped closer and tried to intimidate his brother at least a little bit (which of course didn't work, but not because Sherlock was a sub and Mycroft a dom, not because Mycroft was used to intimidating glares every day from the most dangerous and powerful men in the world, but because Sherlock was Mycroft's baby brother and that's how he would always be seen in the first place).

Mycroft nodded. "Of course, no need to." And then, just because he wanted to see his little brother smile, said: "But the offer about Mr. Anderson still stands. There is a nice scary warehouse just outside town. I can arrange for him to be given a ride and left there."

Sherlock shook his head, but smiled.

* * *

Mycroft leaned back against the expensive seat of the black car that was giving him the ride back to the office and closed his eyes.

He quite enjoyed being a dom and the power he had. He could have obtained his current position with the opposite D/s gender, but it certainly would have been much, much harder. But it was not that he couldn't have done it, they currently had a sub Prime Minister and some of his colleagues were subs. However, the world would be much more difficult for him.

Mycroft understood why he and his brother had a difficult time finding a way to each other (all right, let's be honest, why Sherlock did). Mycroft wouldn't want to be a sub. And not just because of his work (no matter how much he loved to make other doms squirm under his glare and get them to their knees in PD battles, a small part of him considered getting them to such position as a sub to sound like a nice challenge), but mainly because of the fear of not finding a partner in such case. Of having the same problem as Sherlock did.

Mycroft and Sherlock were much more similar than others might think. They both had the need to observe, analyse and deduce. They both wondered how some people could hold jobs while obviously being idiots. And they both needed to utilize this knowledge somehow. But where Sherlock showed himself off loudly and commented on others being idiots, Mycroft was silent and used the findings in his job to crush the enemy and save the queen.

If Sherlock was a dom, everything would be much easier. Maybe he would still be annoying, but he would have crowds of subs wanting him to dom them (it would probably take a lot of effort to find the one who would be happy about his abrupt leaving for cases and the experiments for the long term relationships, but he would be the king of one night D/s stands - as Mycroft once used to be).

Being a sub didn't go well with the Holmes character. Holmes' were smart, strong and independent. And because of that, generally doms didn't like Holmes' very much. However, where Mycroft could start a PD battle with a dom, reassign them to Alaska or start a war against their country, Sherlock was always in the position of knowing that he needed one of them.

Mycroft knew that Sherlock needed a strong dom; he could never be with a weak one, his sub part wouldn't respect such one enough. But Sherlock had never met a strong dom who would appreciate his deductions (as a matter of fact, not a weak one either). Some of them tolerated them, but they were never really appreciated. He also had the need to point out mistakes of others, which wasn't something the doms took well. Moreover, he didn't respect fields which didn't interest him, which doms took very badly.

Mycroft sighed. He often wondered whether there could be a proper dom for Sherlock. He would probably have to be at least as smart as the Holmes brothers to appreciate what Sherlock did and not be a target for Sherlock's accusations of idiocy (well, that eliminated 99% population), be a strong dom and by some miracle to decide that he wants to be Sherlock's dom. The chances were not high. Well, not that his brother would nowadays give someone a chance to get close anyway. Sherlock avoided doms as much as possible (except the inevitable Yarders).

Mycroft frowned. The best moments he spent with his brother nowadays were when Sherlock forgot about the existence of D/s genders. But that happened on rare occasions. And until Sherlock found a right dom for him, the permanent change in this matter probably wouldn't ever happen. With the chances, as such, probably never then. Holmes' always despised sentiment, but of course there were exceptions. And the exception named Sherlock just made Mycroft sad.

He put those thoughts aside as he slowly made his way to his desk. The thin folder containing the basic info about John Watson was waiting for him at his desk. Did he have a dom? If he didn't, should Mycroft do something? Find him a good dom to inspire Sherlock to start trying again as his mother wants? Or the opposite, not to sadden Sherlock with something he could not have?

As he contemplated that, he sat down and opened the file. As he skimmed through, his eyes widened slightly: _D/s gender: Dominant._ (And that was really the only physical reaction as he was used to not showing any surprise.)

Was it the right John Watson? Mycroft browsed through the file. Fortunately, it contained the proof of this main meeting Sherlock today - the photos from the hospital hall with John Watson and an acquaintance of Sherlock entering a lab and then a couple minutes later Sherlock leaving the lab.

Was Sherlock lying to him? Was he trying to waste his brother's time? But what would be the point? He could have just said that he met someone and let Mycroft do the useless research if he wanted that, so no.

He checked the timestamps; Sherlock spent less than two and half minutes with the man. More than enough. Then their conversation sprang into Mycroft's mind: _You are still filtering the D/s aspects? - Unimportant._ Bloody hell. Sherlock didn't notice and had just offered a dom to move with him. Why would a dom agree to move in with a sub? Mycroft skimmed again through the file. John Watson was obviously a kind man with high morale, not someone who would do that, unless… Mycroft's recalled Sherlock's dom-like behaviour he had already gotten used to. So Sherlock considers the doctor a sub and the doctor considers Sherlock a dom.

Mycroft reached for his mobile to text his brother, but then halted. Sherlock would be furious. Not only because he invited a dom to live with him, but more importantly, he didn't notice something.

Options:_ 1. Tell Sherlock._ Sherlock would be furious, Mycroft yelled at and Sherlock discouraged from the next findings. Not Very Good. _2. Somehow prevent for John Watson from coming._ That could work, but Sherlock's curiosity would want to know why and that acquaintance that introduced them would spoil it in the end somehow. Mycroft would be yelled at, not only for finding something his brother didn't, but also because he interfered. Even More Not Good. _3. Let John Watson to come tomorrow and Sherlock find out on his own._ Sherlock would be still angry and Mycroft possibly yelled at for not telling him. But the main deal of yelling would be aimed at John Watson.

Option three it is.

* * *

Again - my greatest thanks to Osprey Emblem for beta-reading! :)

Mmm, who might the person that will be the first dom to sit in that armchair? :)  
I hope you enjoyed this behind the scenes of the moving and Mycroft's actual concern. I'm afraid that Mycroft is right and the relationship between the brothers cannot work until Sherlock is in a proper relationship (a looong way there ;)). Also setting up the base for Mycroft's decisions regarding John in the future.

Please leave a comment! :)


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